A Study In Partnership
by Lady Laran
Summary: Johanna Watson has been drowning in her mind since leaving the military. An introduction to an unusual man has her pulling herself out of her depression, challenging her to face herself and become more than she is. (Part One of the Redefining Series)
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note – Another chance to practice my het romances. I tend to prefer f/f or m/m to m/f romances, and I know I cannot stagnate as an author. So, here's my chance to practice my heterosexual romance and have fun with my favorite couple. The twist to this is that John is a girl in it! I kind of like the idea and decided to have fun while forcing myself to practice. This is actually one of my first times to gender-bend a character, and my inspiration for this has been written by the wonderful OleanderHoney on AO3. I hope she approves of this one!

This will be a tad OOC for John truthfully, but I am playing with certain situations in hopes of making the ending that much sweeter.

Disclaimer – I do not own "Sherlock" and no money is made from this tale! I just love tormenting the characters for my own amusement.

Chapter One – The Doctor Meets the Detective

Johanna Watson sighed as she stepped out of her therapist's office. She had been seeing Ella for her PTSD since returning from Afghanistan, and it felt like a complete waste of time. Nothing the therapist suggested seemed to be working, and it was almost frustrating to know she was devoting so much time to a treatment plan that was utter shite. A large part of her was ready to fire the woman and find another therapist in order to keep up with the guidelines of her discharge and pension.

She sighed again, leaning on her cane as she headed out of the office. Ella had commented that nothing seemed to break through the cool, detached surface that Johanna surrounded herself with and had ordered that she try the blog again. In the doctor's mind, the blog was a colossal waste of time since nothing happened to her and the therapist really had no idea what the cause of her issues were. What was she supposed to write about? Her nightmares? The days that went by without anything to spark her interest? Was she to write about how her dreams, the few she had cherished since childhood, had been destroyed?

No, there was no way Johanna could do such a thing. It was difficult enough to face all of these issues on her own, and she knew that sharing her thoughts with strangers was an impossibility. If there was one thing the physician would not do was complain about her issues where the outside world could poke and prod at her vulnerabilities.

The former military woman slipped outside, moving carefully to the Tube's entrance so she could head back to the bedsit. She was too strapped to take a cab today, which meant relying on public transportation. Her blue eyes watched the people around her, biting back a sigh as each individual seemed to notice everything but her.

That was another thing that didn't seem to change as time went by, no matter how often she'd wished for it when she was younger. People seemed to overlook her when she was not in her comfortable settings – surgery or in the field. Johanna knew she wasn't a beauty or even one of those unique kinds of individuals that seemed to garner the attention of everyone around her.

Her father had often called her his 'ugly duckling' and had promised that she would grow into the swan like the duckling in the story had been. When she was a child, she would curl into his side and let his warmth chase away her sorrows from the horrible teasing of her sister and school mates as well as the ever growing disappointment of a mother that had wanted two gorgeous daughters. Johanna had stopped waiting for that transformation long ago and had spent her time immersed in her studies and a few choice sports that had drawn her attention.

The blue eyed woman didn't consider herself ugly, but she knew she fell short of being called beautiful. Johanna had schooled herself harshly in regards to trying to feel disappointment over it and continually worked on her hobbies as well as improving her mind where she could. As long as she had her books, she didn't mind being overlooked as a potential mate. If the men around her didn't appreciate her intelligence and talents, then they were just out of luck.

She approached the tube's entrance and shook her head, trying to regain control of her thoughts. A very large part of her did not want to go home, knowing the temptation that lay locked within a drawer. Her state of mind was too imbalanced to risk that right now so she decided to get a bit more exercise, heading towards the park near the hospital she had put so many hours in during her training.

When she turned a corner in the gardens of the park, a voice reached her ears and made her pause.

"Johanna Watson, is that you?"

The doctor turned, mind racing for a moment before the changed face looked familiar to her. She gave him a gentle smile, moving towards him as she addressed the man.

"Mike Stamford, it is good to see you."

The heavyset male got up, extending a hand towards her. His smile was just as kind and open as it had been during their university days, and Johanna was so pleased to see that.

"How are you doing? What have you been up to these days?"

"Well enough, I suppose," she answered him. "I was invalided out of the military so am trying to find a way to center myself and get used to civilian life again. How about you?"

"Doing well, doing well. Married now, with kids, and working over at Bart's these days as a teacher of the bright young minds of tomorrow. God, I hate them. I'm sorry to hear you were injured," Mike shared, looking at his friend. "Are you in London temporarily or looking to stay?"

"I'd like to stay," Johanna admitted. "However, living in London is well beyond my means and the place I'm living at is a cramped hellhole. Army pension doesn't pay enough for me to remain in town."

"I suppose Harry's place is still out of the question?"

She sighed, rubbing her forehead with her free hand. Mike had met her sister during their time in university and knew firsthand what a rotten bitch Harry was. He'd also gotten to meet their mother and had quickly quipped to Johanna later that he knew where Harry had gotten that nasty attitude from. It hadn't helped ease the horror and shame she'd felt, but he'd not held her family against her. She's been very grateful for that.

"She's gotten worse over the years so yeah, her place is a definite no-go. Same as returning to my family's house."

"Have you thought about getting a flatshare?"

The blond shook her head, hand moving to cover the one that rested on the cane.

"I'm not a good candidate for it; I mean, who'd want me as a flatmate?"

The response was not something Johanna had expected, and she gave him a keen look when he started laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh Johanna, you are the second person to ask me that very same question today. Come with me," he instructed, knowing her curiosity would lead her to follow him into the hospital he worked at.

The hospital where the two friends had trained was certainly different now, she observed. It had a more modern feel to it thanks to the renovations and the advanced technology that was available to be seen and used by the staff. When she commented on how things had changed, Mike only laughed and agreed.

"Why are we going to the morgue," Johanna asked, recognizing where they were going.

"That's where the chap is I want you to meet," Mike answered. "He's usually down here to run tests and the like."

Well, there were worse places to run tests so the woman said nothing bad about it and simply followed her friend into a small lab near the main area of the morgue.

"Mike, may I borrow your mobile?"

Johanna blinked when she heard the deep voice address her companion, rocking for a moment when she had realized it had come from the skinny man behind the microscope. She couldn't see much of him considering his head was down, and it was hard to get any sort of description on him beyond dark hair, skinny appearance, and deep voice.

"I've not got it with me," Mike said sheepishly after searching his pockets. "I left it in my jacket back in my office. Landline works though."

"I prefer to text," the man responded and Johanna moved, fishing the phone her sister had given her out of her coat pocket. She took a step forward, holding the device out.

"You're welcome to borrow mine."

She froze when he looked up and assessed her, which was a first for her. Most people never really saw her, and this man was taking the time to really get a good look at her. Johanna knew she wasn't much to look at: inexpensive clothing that was ill-fitting due to her weight loss during her injury and subsequent illnesses that followed, dirty-blond hair worn in a short cut, and her plain features that simply showed the signs of stress, pain, and illness. The gaze only lasted a few moments, but it seared her right to the core.

"Afghanistan or Iraq," he asked, eyes going down to her mobile as he swiftly typed a message.

"Afghanistan," Johanna answered, a bit taken aback by the question. "How did you know?"

"Do you have any problems with the violin?"

"No," she began, a bit baffled and trying to keep up with his thought processes. How had he jumped from where her last assignment had been to a musical instrument?

"I play the violin at odd hours when I'm thinking and am prone to going days without speaking as well. Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other."

Johanna quickly caught up, tired as she was, and watched him carefully as she responded.

"I'm pretty much non-communicative if I don't have my cup of tea first thing in the morning," she began. "Since you know where I was last stationed, then you should know that the time there left its mark on me in more ways than one. You'll need to tread with care some days, but I'll try to give some signal if I'm having an off day. Since you've brought up the idea of sharing a flat, I assume you know what you're getting into by considering me as a potential flatmate?"

He blinked at that, a bit surprised but pleased that she'd responded like this. Apparently, she had more potential than he'd originally thought.

"Are you speaking of the PTSD or something entirely different?"

"I brought the first issue up a few moments ago," she replied. "The second issue is gender oriented."

"That should not present a problem," Sherlock answered, tilting his head a bit as he picked up his scarf to tie it around his neck.

Mike snickered at that, knowing full well what his friend was referring to. Sherlock was going to be in for a shock if Johanna did move into the flat with him. He waved a hand when the smaller doctor gave him a look.

She slid her mobile back into her pocket, limping towards the tall male as she questioned him.

"Have you been around women more than a few weeks?"

"Not really," he admitted, watching her with what looked to be fascination. "Why do you ask?"

"The worst I get is one week out of the month when hormones are an issue," Johanna replied, standing in front of him. Being a doctor, mentioning this issue wasn't as embarrassing as it could be but his attitude towards her PTSD indicated that he may be able to handle the once a month female issue without a problem.

"I have not been around women for a great length of time, outside of my mother," he told her. "I suppose we shall see how it goes."

"You did say we needed to be open regarding potential problems," she said to him.

"That I did," he agreed. "Are you free to view the flat now?"

"I am," Johanna said to him. "I'm Johanna Watson," she introduced herself, holding her hand out to him.

"Sherlock Holmes," he said, taking her hand for a brief moment. "If you'll wait a few moments, I need to retrieve my riding crop from the morgue."

She shook her head, wondering just how crazy this man was and then pondering her own sanity by her agreement to view a flat with him. The small woman shrugged, following him out of the lab and into the morgue.

The silence between them was easy, lasting until Sherlock flagged a cab. She settled herself as comfortable as possible before looking at her potential flatmate.

"Given the question you asked me earlier, I take it you're some kind of genius or really good at observing people."

"Both," the curly haired male answered. "You stand at parade rest when you come to a stop and watch the room you are in rather carefully. You took time to position yourself to watch everyone while ensuring your back was not to the door. This is an indicator of your time in the military, especially indicative of the fact that you spent enough time in a war zone to build this habit. Your skin is tanned in the areas where a shirt does not cover but is pale above the wrists. This is not typical of sunbathing so you were in a desert area during part of your time in the military."

He drew a breath and continued on with the explanation of his observations. The detective was not quite certain how the woman would react to words he was sharing.

"You mentioned to Stamford that things had changed since you were last here and the familiarity with which he treated you indicates that you both were in uni together as well as spending your residency and training at St. Bart's. Given your time in the military, you were a surgeon until you were invalided out due to a shoulder wound.

"You could have stayed with your brother but decided not to due to his drinking issues as well as the way he treats you and his ex-wife."

"How did you know about the drinking," Johanna asked. The drinking problem her sister had was only part of the reason as to why she wouldn't ask her only sibling for help. Harry had thrown it at her in a rage after she'd inquired to the whereabouts of her former sister-in-law as the doctor had not been told about the split up. Johanna had been told to keep it and if her financial situation had been better, she wouldn't be using it at all.

"Your mobile has scratches near the charge port," he explained. "Even drunk, a person will automatically hook their mobile up to charge at night. The hands shake, leaving the marks on the phone. You always see those scratches on the mobile of an intoxicated individual but never on the one that belongs to a sober male."

"Incredible," she breathed out, shaking her head.

"You think so," he asked, looking over at her with those unusually colored eyes.

"I do, and you're nearly spot on. However, Harry is short for Harriet."

Sherlock frowned, fist clenching for a moment as he processed what he'd been told. It was obvious he did not like having missed the gender of the subject he had been speaking about.

"Sister instead of a brother. There's always something I miss."

"Don't feel bad," she told him. "You did remarkably well on the other things, and Harry is usually a male name. I've never seen anyone read that much detail from my appearance or a mobile before."

"You're the first to say anything nice about it. It's not the response I usually get."

"What is the response you get?"

He gave her an amused look when he answered the question she'd put to him.

"Piss off."

Johanna bit back a laugh, realizing that most people would be unnerved by someone picking up that much information simply by looking at them.

"I had wondered what it was you'd seen when you looked at me."

Any question he may have regarding that comment was cut off when the cab arrived at its destination.

"221 Baker Street," the cabbie announced and Johanna exited the vehicle, digging in her pocket for her wallet. She was forestalled by Sherlock handing the driver a wad of bills before gesturing to the door.

"Welcome to Baker Street, Dr. Watson."

Author's End Note - I hope everyone enjoyed this. I've planned for quite a few stories in this universe so hopefully things will go well. Please let me know what you think of it, and I shall see you next chapter! Laran


	2. A New Home and Holmes

Author's Note – I have been rather amazed by the response to this so far, and I can't thank everyone for giving this story a chance. I've been bouncing around between stories during the breaks from my original story writing time, wanting to keep updating and working on the fan-fiction wombats that have been gnawing on me repeatedly.

Disclaimer – I do not own "Sherlock" nor do I make any money from this story. I just enjoy torturing the characters.

Chapter Two – A New Home and Holmes

Johanna waited beside Sherlock as he knocked on the heavy black door, watching as he bounced on the balls of his feet for a few moments before the door opened by an elderly lady. For a brief moment, the physician was reminded of an eager puppy or kitten that was excited to see its favorite human or toy. The dirty-blond haired woman was rather quick to throw that analogy from her thoughts before she could succumb to the giggles that threatened to emerge. Her features remained passive when the door partially opened to reveal an older woman.

"Sherlock! It is good to see you. Here to see the flat again?"

"Yes, I am, Mrs. Hudson. This is my potential flatmate, Dr. Watson. I thought I could show her the flat and see what she thinks."

Mrs. Hudson smiled, opening the door for them. Johanna could see the open affection the older woman had for the man with her, and she could see that her possible landlady was a good woman. That made her feel much better about the possibility of sharing a flat with the male beside her.

"Welcome, dear," the elderly lady said with a warm smile. "Go on up with him and take a look around. There's a second bedroom on the next floor with the flat if you decide on two rooms."

"I'm glad there's two bedrooms," Johanna said gently, not wanting the landlady to believe there was more between her and Sherlock. It seemed odd to her that the idea would even come to the woman's mind, but she said nothing of it as she continued to speak to Mrs. Hudson. "I've only just met him today; my friend Mike seemed to believe that he and I would work out as flatmates. I'm hoping he's right as I'd rather like to get out of the bedsit I've been bunking in lately."

"Bedsit? Oh you poor dear, those things are dreadful at times. Go on and have a look around," she told the younger woman, shooing her up the stairs.

Johanna made her way up the stairs, finding a flat that was furnished but not decorated or lived in. There was quite a bit of space, and it was warm even though it had been empty for some time. She could easily see herself living here, and the size and location of the flat made her wonder at one particular thing.

"What do you think?"

"It's very nice," she began, looking over at him. "What's the rent though?"

Sherlock quoted a price that took her by surprise. How was it possible to get something like this for that amount of money? He answered the question before she could ask it, much to her relief.

"Some time back, I did her a favor regarding her husband's legal issues in Florida. The man was facing execution for crimes he'd been accused of."

"So you got him off and kept him from being executed?"

His reply forced her to school her expressions because she had wanted to laugh when she heard the answer.

"No, I ensured there was ample evidence to convict him and get him the death penalty. Mrs. Hudson offered the discount when she heard I was looking for a better place to live. She seems to be rather fond of me because of what I did for her."

"I must admit, Sherlock, that you are the first person I've ever heard of who was able to get a discount simply for proving a husband's guilt. If the rent remains that low, I can swing my half of that," she told him. "I would like to take a look upstairs first before I commit to it."

Sherlock nodded, still looking as if he had way too much energy to burn, and she headed through a door to find another set of stairs. Moving slowly, she went up the small flight of steps and found a bedroom at the top of them.

The room was done in a soft shade of blue, which she found to be rather restful. There was a wardrobe in a corner that contained some drawers at the bottom for storage. The bed was a platform type that had drawers along the bottom as well. The room also contained a small nightstand beside the bed and a bookcase.

Even at this time of day, the bedroom didn't allow in a lot of light and that suited Johanna quite well actually. She gave a quiet sigh, knowing she wanted to live here and would sign the lease that day if her landlady had it ready. In truth, the doctor would rather move in that evening to get out of the dreary bedsit she was currently living in. A relocation would be just what she needed to try to get her life going again.

The former military woman headed back to the living room, finding Sherlock waiting on her. He watched her with an intent gaze that missed nothing. For some reason, that gaze seemed to make her feel a bit more reassured with her decision.

"Well?"

"I like it," she told him. "I think it'll suit me nicely; you really did find a wonderful place."

He gave her a bit of a smile at that, looking relieved.

"She informed me that she's got the lease ready, and we'll be able to move in once we sign it. Do you have anything large to move in?"

Johanna shook her head, fighting back the upset that twisted her stomach. The only pieces she had wanted to keep after her father's death had been sold by her mother long before Johanna had reached adulthood.

"My rucksack and a few boxes," she admitted, keeping her shoulders squared for now. "Not much so I might be able to move in tonight if Mrs. Hudson is willing. That bedsit can be a bit much to handle honestly."

"I think she'd be pleased to have someone else besides herself in the building tonight," he answered. "I doubt she'll argue against you moving in this evening."

"I'll ask her though," she told him as they headed downstairs. She was careful on the steps, navigating them with the cane in one hand and the other hand on the railing.

Mrs. Hudson was waiting, an eager look in her eyes when the pair popped their heads into her flat.

"What do you think," the older lady asked the two, smiling brightly when she heard their answers.

"We'll take it," Sherlock began, nodding when Johanna stepped in with her query.

"Sherlock mentioned that you happen to have the lease ready for us to sign, Mrs. Hudson? Also, would you be all right if I moved in this evening?"

"I wouldn't mind at all, dear. Best to get you out of that bedsit soon as possible and it'll be nice to have company here tonight," she answered. "I do have the lease ready for you two and a pen if you need one."

Sherlock and Johanna sat at the table, reading the document before setting their signatures to it. Both received a key, which the doctor added to her sparsely filled key ring. All of the necessary things regarding rubbish pick up and utilities were discussed, and the small woman had a feeling that her new flatmate had possibly tuned out part of the conversation.

Once everything was through, Johanna headed back to the bedsit to pack the few odds and ends that weren't usually put away before turning her key into the manager. The taxi ride was one she relished, even though it would hit her wallet rather hard. For once, she didn't care since she knew she would be in a place she would enjoy and hopefully be able to relax in. If she had to eat pot noodles until her next pension check, so be it.

Mrs. Hudson opened the door for her when she arrived, and Johanna was grateful for that as her arms were full of the two boxes that she'd brought with her along with the military rucksack. Her cane was looped over her arm so she had to walk carefully to keep the injured leg stable.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson; I truly appreciate the help."

"Not a problem, dear. I'll get the flat door for you too so you won't have to make multiple trips on that leg of yours."

"You, dear lady, are an angel," she told the woman, slowly navigating the stairs behind her. The comment made the older lady laugh.

"Oh heavens, you are a bit of a silly one but thank you, dearie."

Mrs. Hudson opened the flat for her, and Johanna headed to her room to set the boxes and rucksack down. She was quick to notice the linens waiting for her and smiled to herself, grateful for her new landlady. This would hold her until the money came in where she could buy linens for herself.

A quick look into the living room showed that the landlady had retired to her own flat, so Johanna went ahead and began unpacking. She started with her boxes first, placing the books on the shelf by subject and alphabetized within each section. The few knickknacks and pictures she owned were put up, displayed carefully on the shelves in front of the books. Her alarm clock was put on the nightstand, plugged in and set to display the correct time.

Before long, all of her clothing was put away and the rucksack placed in a drawer in case she needed again. The bed was made to military and hospital standards, the spare blankets she owned placed in a drawer in the bed so she could reach them if it grew cool enough. Once her sidearm was put away, Johanna disposed of the boxes and then headed to the living room.

The physician sank into the smaller chair, resting the cane against the side of it. The space of the flat was already doing her quite a bit of good; the bedsit had been too cramped and had often caused her a lot of discomfort during the night. She gave a tired sigh, eyes closing for a brief moment as she relished the quiet serenity of her surroundings.

The silence she was appreciating was broken by the sound of a knock on the door, and she reached for her cane so she could rise to her feet. It took a moment to gain her equilibrium before she headed to the door. Mrs. Hudson's smiling face greeted her when the door to the flat opened.

"I doubt you've had a chance to get some shopping done, dear, and I thought you might be hungry after the unpacking you've been doing. I'd be happy to have you share dinner with me and maybe a cup of tea?"

"I don't want to intrude," Johanna began, and her landlady smiled even brighter at her.

"It's not an intrusion at all, Dr. Watson. Truth be told, it'd be nice to have a spot of company tonight."

There simply was no way to decline when the physician heard that, and she gracefully capitulated. The former captain knew all too well what it was like to dine alone, and she knew it would be nice to have some companionship tonight.

"I'll come but on one condition," she told the older woman. "You call me Johanna."

"A lovely name," Mrs. Hudson told her. "I'd be happy to call you by your first name, Johanna. Thank you, dear."

"No, thank you for your kindness," she said in reply. "I had not given thought as to what to do for dinner tonight."

"I always end up making too much," the older woman answered, leading the way down the stairs. "It leaves me with a lot of leftovers, which I typically don't mind, but it gets rather lonesome eating by myself after a while."

"I understand," Johanna murmured, using both cane and railing to help steady her descent. She'd nibbled her way through too many solitary meals since her discharge and knew all too well how awful it could feel.

Mrs. Hudson led the doctor into her flat, guiding her to the table where she could sit in comfort. The older woman laughed, waving off any offers of assistance as she did so.

"Not to worry, dear, it won't take me long to get this onto the table. Would wine be all right for you," she asked, not knowing if her new tenant had to abstain from drinking or not.

"Truthfully, Mrs. Hudson, I would prefer some water please," Johanna requested, knowing some of the medications she was on would not blend well with alcohol.

"Not a problem," her landlady stated, putting a glass of ice water on the table in front of her first before getting the food onto the table as well.

Once everything was done, Mrs. Hudson and Johanna served themselves and the former military woman gave a soft contented sigh when the flavor of the roasted chicken burst across her taste buds.

"That is delicious," she said to her hostess. "I don't think I have had anything that tastes this good in years."

"You'd think they would feed you better in the army," the older woman said, shaking her head. "Especially considering all the hard work the soldiers do for Queen and Country."

"They fed us nutritious meals, but no one can ever say they taste good," Johanna quipped back, a small smile showing at the familiar complaint she and her fellow Fusiliers had griped over during her time with them. That was a memory that didn't hurt, and it felt nice to be able to remember the good natured banter they'd shared about the meals.

"It's still not right," Mrs. Hudson replied. "I'm glad I was able to make something you would enjoy, Johanna. You're too thin, especially for a soldier."

Blue eyes looked down at her plate as her hand shook for a moment while playing with the mashed potatoes. She knew her health wasn't completely recovered, and it stung to be reminded of it as it brought up the bitter thoughts of what else she had lost because of her injuries.

"I'm sorry, dear. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

Johanna managed to give her another small smile, shaking her while she did so.

"It's all right, Mrs. Hudson. You did nothing wrong," she reassured her, not liking the expression of guilt on her dining companion's face.

"Are you certain, dear? I seemed to have put my foot in it," she said softly, not liking the too controlled expression on the other woman's face.

"It's fine," Johanna answered, then took another bite of her meal. It would take time to work her way through her issues, if she could find a way to do so.

"Are you working currently as a doctor?"

"Not at the moment," she replied. "I'm not entirely certain which direction I want to head into since I can no longer work at my specialty."

"What was your specialty, if you don't mind my asking," the older woman asked, taking a bite of her meal.

"I am..was a trauma surgeon," Johanna answered, fighting to keep her tone and expression neutral for this discussion.

"Goodness, that is amazing," Mrs. Hudson commented. "I've heard that's an incredibly difficult field to specialize in. That's definitely something to be proud of, dear."

Johanna blinked at that, surprised by the compliment. Her mother had fussed about the decision to become a doctor and Harry hadn't cared at all, just calling her a nerd and other names that had stung. She'd managed to push that aside, keeping her head down to focus on her studies.

"I suppose so," she managed to answer. "Given I can no longer preform surgeries, I might look into working in an A&E once I'm steadier."

"I've heard they can always use good doctors there," the older woman agreed. "A lot of times, there's a lot of accidents and injuries that come in and it seems like there's not enough doctors to go around."

"I think that's a normal situation to find anywhere," Johanna murmured, struggling to push certain memories out of her mind. "No matter how well staffed a place is, once things get rough, there's never enough qualified hands to do what's needed."

Mrs. Hudson nodded and changed the subject to other topics that would not trouble her new tenant. Both women found the other to be intelligent, witty at times, and rather observant. By the time the meal was over, Johanna felt more comfortable around the older female and knew she'd enjoy spending time with her landlady, although she could do without the gossip.

It was with a full stomach and several wrapped plates in hand that Johanna cautiously made her way up the stairs. She didn't feel nearly as stressed as she had earlier, and the relaxation felt nice considering she had been incredibly overwhelmed by things since her discharge from the military.

The doctor opened the door to her flat, coming to an abrupt halt inside the door when her eyes fell onto a tall figure standing within the living room. Her fingers tightened on her cane, stance shifting to an alert one.

"Doctor Watson, I presume?"

Author's End Note – Uh oh, who might this newcomer be? Thanks for reading my story and hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think of it. See everyone next chapter! ~ Laran


	3. The Doctor Meets the British Government

Author's Note – Chapter two certainly gained favorable response, and I'm so pleased for that. It's good to know that everyone is enjoying the story so far, and I'm getting rather fond of it. I'm looking forward to seeing how the story and series unfold and how everyone likes it. Thank you for being so patient in waiting for this update!

Disclaimer – I do not own "Sherlock" or make any money from this tale. I simply enjoy playing with the characters to flex my own literary muscles.

Chapter Three – The Doctor Meets the British Government

At the words from the stranger, Johanna quickly focused on him, not certain if he meant harm or not. The plates were set on a small table near the door, freeing up her other hand in case she needed to defend herself. A brief scan showed that the only intruder was the tall man in the flat with her and though the knowledge was comforting, the former soldier was not pleased to have her new home violated like this.

"What are you doing here," she asked, voice firm as she continued to eye the other man. At the moment, she was rather displeased that her sidearm was upstairs in her room but it didn't mean she was completely helpless.

"I decided to pay a call as you signed a lease to share this flat with Sherlock Holmes," the auburn haired man answered, watching her with keen eyes.

Johanna was quick to notice that he was actually looking at her in nearly the same way as her flatmate had when they met earlier in the day, but there were differences in the gaze. While Sherlock's had been rife with intense interest and curiosity, this newcomer's eyes held disdain but did reflect the same intelligence that shone in the unusually colored eyes of her flatmate. The doctor didn't like what she was seeing and straightened her spine, military perfect.

"So you decided to break into my flat because of this," she asked, voice low.

"I want to know your connection to him," the male demanded, noticing her posture and responding to it with his own air of command. Much to his annoyance, the woman did not seem affected by it, maintaining a cool, placid expression as she continued to meet his eyes.

"That is not your concern," Johanna replied, still keeping a very watchful eye on the intruder.

"I am afraid I shall have to disagree with you on that point," he answered. "It very much is my concern."

"No, it isn't," she rebutted. "I'll thank you to leave now."

He gave her a frigid stare that was returned with equal measure. The auburn haired man leaned on his umbrella, watching her once more.

"I am aware that, as a wounded veteran returning home, your pension will not leave you much room for any luxury purchases," he began. "I would be willing to pay you for information about Sherlock Holmes. I would like to hear about his daily activities, general wellbeing, things of that nature."

"Absolutely not," she answered, words clipped and formal. The doctor was very appalled by the offer this man was making, going against her sense of honor and personal integrity.

"I haven't mentioned a sum yet," the stranger rebutted, raising an eyebrow when she cut him off.

"You don't need to," Johanna told him. "If you want to know these things so badly, ask him yourself. I'll not be a spy for anyone."

"We have a very tense relationship, he and I. Sherlock would not answer any questions I would put to him so I must find other means of getting the information I require. I worry about him constantly."

"Regardless, I will not spy on him for you or anyone else. Your relationship with him is your problem, not mine," she replied.

He pulled a notebook from an inner pocket of his coat, opening it to the page he had marked.

"You must have found an alternative means of supporting yourself due to your difficulties or you are delusional about your financial circumstances. Considering the fact that your physical therapist is baffled as to why your right ankle, which has healed adequately enough to support you with the brace you were issued, still causes you enough difficulties to force you to retain a limp. According to the records, you should only limp during poor weather or too much stress. Add to that, the tremor in your left hand is due to nerve damage due to the bullet wound you received to your shoulder and the complications that resulted after you received the injuries. This would be why you can no longer work as a surgeon."

"Are those my medical records," Johanna asked, voice growing tense as she realized what the man was holding. The tension coiled tighter within her abdomen, turning into absolute fury when the intruder continued to read from his notebook.

"Your therapist has stated that you have trust issues and seems to believe that you have fallen into a form of disassociation as well as suffering from PTSD and self-esteem issues. She feels, quite correctly, that the emotional issues are what is contributing to the limp."

Her quick mind put facts together and the rage burned hotter, and her expression turned into one that had scared the soldiers she had commanded not long ago. Her voice took on a frigid quality, low but easily heard, and had her uninvited guest done further research into her, he would have known that he had truly pushed the woman too far.

"You have overstepped yourself," she said icily, taking a step towards him and removing the notebook from his hands before he could think to pull it out of her reach. The physician read over what was written, then looked up at the man. It was obvious she was not intimidated by the height difference at all as she squared off in front of him.

"Are you uneducated or just mentally deficient?"

"I beg your pardon," he asked, sounding insulted and a tad angry.

"You must be one of the two as you have done something was not only highly illegal but incredibly unethical," Johanna continued. "You have not only broken into offices to remove information that you do not have the right to obtain but also violated the sanctity of the confidentiality that every patient has a right to have with their doctors."

He tried to interject when she drew in a breath to continue, but he had no chance to do so as the irate physician spoke again.

"You have violated my privacy in an attempt to do the same to my flatmate's, and I am infuriated by what you have done. My medical records are between myself and my physicians and as a medical professional, I am appalled that the confidentiality that is granted to medical personnel and their patients has been shattered. It wasn't just my life you tried to play with; you have just destroyed the careers of two medical professionals because you couldn't keep your overly large proboscis out of affairs that do not concern you."

His eyes widened as she pulled her mobile out of her pocket and dialed a number.

"Yes, I'd like to report a break in. The intruder is still in my flat, and I would like him removed," she told the operator, giving the address as she did so. Her eyes flashed a warning at him when he tried to take a step forward, stance shifting to show that she would use physical means to keep him where he was.

The call on the mobile ended and, hoping to take advantage of her distraction, the man lunged in hopes of getting the notebook back and himself out of the flat. It was a tad out of character for himself as he despised legwork but there was no way he could be found here, even with his government identification.

The response was not what he had expected at all. He'd thought that his size as well as the timing of the maneuver would work out to his benefit, but the small doctor had surprised him yet again. The former military woman turned into his attack, using his momentum against him as she buried her shoulder into his midriff and flipped him over her. The auburn haired male hit the floor hard, chin bouncing off of the carpeted surface to stun him further. Before he could regain his breath, Johanna had restrained his hands with her belt and had somehow hogtied him using that and several curtain tie backs.

"Johanna, is everything all right up there?"

She poked her captive with her cane, warning him silently not to move while she called down to her landlady.

"Everything is fine now, Mrs. Hudson. Would you be so kind to let the police in when they arrive?"

"Police? What happened?"

"There was an intruder in my flat when I came up the stairs," the doctor told the older woman. "I'm not hurt, but he's a bit tied up at the moment."

"I'll have to have someone in to look at the doors and windows," the older lady fretted. "I'm glad you're all right, dear. I'll make sure to let the police in when they get here."

"Thank you," she called back, eyes on her captive. An idea came to her, and she snapped a couple of pictures with her mobile. Johanna didn't have her flatmate's number, but she could show him tomorrow when he moved in. Maybe the man could tell her who this arrogant arsehole on her floor is.

The ringing of the front door's bell soon filled the flat, and she could hear the voice of her landlady drift up quietly. Johanna could not determine what was being said, but she did hear the sound of footsteps hurrying up the stairs that led up to her flat. Within seconds, her blue eyes spotted the figures of several policeman as well as the distinctive form of her new flatmate.

"Sherlock?"

"I came by to drop a few delicate items off before the movers picked up the rest of my belongings tomorrow morning. Mrs. Hudson told me there was an intruder?"

Johanna nodded, slipping her mobile back into her pocket. She was able to relax now that she wasn't alone with the stranger.

"There is," she answered, gesturing to the bound figure on the floor. She continued speaking as the police began to untie him and put restraints around his wrists. Her belt was handed back to her, which she set on the table by the food Mrs. Hudson had sent up with her.

"I came up here after sharing a meal with Mrs. Hudson and found this man in the flat. The door outside had been locked so I am not sure how he got in. He tried to bribe me for information about you and then began reading off notes he'd somehow managed to steal from both my physical therapist as well as another therapist I see. I know both of them well enough to know they wouldn't have given out any of my medical records so he had to have somehow broken into their databases to get the information," she said, handing an officer the notebook.

Sherlock's unusual eyes widened when he spotted who it was that had caused this uproar. The other officer had helped the man off of the floor, reading the intruder his rights as he did so.

"Mycroft?"

Before the man could answer, the consulting detective began laughing, not hiding his amusement at the predicament his brother was now in. He would have to get the full story from Johanna once the police escorted his sibling off of the premises. Given the story and the way she was cautiously eyeing the older Holmes, it was obvious she had been the one to capture and restrain him. Sherlock had a feeling his brother would not live this down for a while as the doctor was incredibly short and slender; Mycroft was taller and outweighed her so this happening would be an incredible embarrassment for the man. All in all, the detective was extremely amused by the series of events.

"This is not amusing, Sherlock. Officer, this has been a simple misunderstanding. If you will check my pockets, you will find my official identification."

Johanna's eyes narrowed at the restrained man, body still as her temper flared.

"So having an official ID makes this all better? It gives you the right to not only break into my flat but also take my medical records? It gives you the right to spy on people? I think not," she ground out. "Please get this man out of my flat, officers, and I will give you the contact information for the two medical professionals he stole the records from so you can get in touch with them."

She wrote down the names and telephone numbers for her physical therapist and therapist, handing them to the officer holding onto the notebook. Once that was done, the policemen escorted Mycroft out, leaving the two flatmates alone.

"I think Mycroft will be cursing himself for underestimating you," Sherlock stated, snickering a bit. "Damn, I should have gotten pictures of him tied up."

Johanna pulled her mobile out, looking to the laughing detective.

"What's your mobile number," she asked, getting the pictures marked to send to him. "And how do you know the man?"

Sherlock gave her the number, then added a reply to her question.

"Unfortunately, Mycroft is my older brother and feels that he has the right to constantly interfere with my life. I take it he tried to offer you a bribe to spy on me?"

She added his number to her contact list, then sent the pictures to his phone while she answered the question.

"He did, the arrogant arse. I still can't believe he helped himself to my medical records. He's lucky all I did was put him on the ground," she grumbled, feeling angry.

He chuckled, reviewing the pictures while answering her. Sherlock forwarded the photos to his mother, snickering to himself at the wry response he received once she had seen the pictures. Mycroft was not going to hear the end of this for a very long time.

"Oh I believe he will think twice about approaching you with that kind of arrogance again. You did well, Johanna. I've never seen him like that before."

"You might again if he continues to be an arrogant arse," she grumbled, picking up the plates and heading to the kitchen. "Have you eaten? I've got some of the leftover roast from Mrs. Hudson."

"I have not eaten and would enjoy some of her roast," he answered, putting away the fragile items he had brought to the flat.

Johanna smiled, starting tea as well as heating up one of the plates for her new flatmate. Although she could have done without the problem with his brother, she had a feeling life was going to be rather interesting. She was pleased she'd accepted Sherlock's offer and wondered what would happen the next time her path crossed with Mycroft's.

With a sigh, she set the plate on the table and called Sherlock to the table, thinking that things would be chaotic once he moved in tomorrow. A part of her couldn't wait to see what would happen next.

Author's End Note – I hope everyone enjoyed the confrontation with Mycroft. I know I enjoyed writing it! I'll be working on updates and moving forward with this story. Please let me know what you thought of it! ~ Laran


	4. Settling IN

Author's Note – The reviews I've gotten so far for the last chapter have been positive, and I appreciate those of you who spared a few moments to let me know what you thought of it. It seems I made at least one of you laugh with the scene between Johanna and Mycroft. Truthfully, it made me laugh while writing it. I'm really enjoying this story, and it feels as if the tale is writing itself. That's always fun to experience.

To the one reviewer who left a review but not signed in, I'm honored I was able to set you onto a new aspect of the "Sherlock" fandom. Since you do enjoy the gender-bent aspect now, I suggest you look up OleanderHoney's stories. She was the one who got me interested in writing a female John to begin with. You cannot go wrong with her works!

Disclaimer – I do not own "Sherlock" nor do I make money from writing this tale. I simply enjoy playing with the characters that are owned by the estate of Arthur Conan Doyle and the BBC.

Chapter Four – Settling In

Heat seemed to be all encompassing as the noise of artillery fire, explosions, orders being barked out, and screams of the wounded that begged for aid filled the sand filled air. It was bright, too bright, and the explosions seemed to push the radiance level into a higher spectrum than was comfortable for anyone in the area. The screams for medical attention seemed overwhelming, and the name of the unit's medic resounded powerfully as the small figure dashed to the first patient to try to drag the man to cover so he could be stabilized.

"Sniper!"

Johanna sat up, a scream bit back before it could be heard and her hand went to her shoulder. She shuddered, closing her eyes for a moment and forcing her breathing into a calmer pace to try to calm down from the rush of emotion.

"London, not Afghanistan. You're all right, Watson. Pull yourself together," she muttered to herself, trying to push the panic away. "No snipers or wounded, just you. Pull it together."

The doctor pushed back the riptide of emotions that were threatening to overwhelm her, reaching for her dressing gown so she could put the garment on before heading downstairs. A cup of tea would be precisely what she needed to try to relax. Once it was tied, she rose to her feet and grabbed her cane, limping down the stairs to the living room.

After making the tea, Johanna moved into the living room, curling up on the sofa to try to relax and enjoy the soothing herbal mix of chamomile and vanilla with a dash of honey. The quiet atmosphere was relaxing, but she found that she missed the noise that had followed her flatmate when he had come by earlier that evening. The chaos that had surrounded him had been jarring but entertaining at the same time, and the small woman was looking forward to having that in the flat again. Silence tended to allow her to drift into bad memories, and that was the last thing she wanted after a nightmare.

Time passed slowly between cups of tea, and it was seven thirty in the morning when the too solemn atmosphere was disturbed by the cyclone of energy that was Sherlock Holmes. He paused after taking three steps into the flat, watching her for several long seconds.

"I hadn't expected you to be awake at this hour. Bad dreams, I take it?"

"One of things I warned you to expect when you brought up the idea of sharing a flat," she reminded the genius. "They happen to be more common than I'd like."

Dark curls fell over his forehead when he nodded, setting a box down onto the desk.

"The movers will be here in about half an hour," he told her. "I decided to be here early so I could determine where to put everything. Do you have an issue if I were to use the kitchen for a laboratory?"

"I don't mind as long as there's space to store the dishware and tea necessities. I can't cook, so I pretty much buy frozen foods or salads to eat most of the time. Leave me room for that without fear of contamination, and I won't complain as long as proper laboratory protocols are maintained."

He gave her a small smile, pleased with her answer. Sherlock had a feeling they might get along rather well after all, and Johanna was proving him to be right at every turn.

"I will endeavor to do so," he replied, starting to unpack the box he had brought in.

"In the meantime, I need to shower and get ready for the day. If you need help with unpacking after I'm done, I don't mind lending a hand."

When he didn't answer, Johanna went up to get a change of clothing before heading downstairs to use the bathroom. She hung the dressing gown on the hook and laid her change of clothing on the toilet before starting the water for the shower. The old pipes groaned when the water pressure changed, diverting water up to 221B's bathroom, and it took a few moments before the liquid warmed enough for the doctor to begin to clean up for the day.

Showered, groomed, and dressed, Johanna carried her night wear and dressing gown up to her room, putting it away, before limping downstairs to join her flatmate in the living room. Boxes were all over the place with more coming as the movers brought the cardboard containers into the flat.

"My goodness," she commented, looking around. The physician had not expected to see this many containers and was reminded that not many people had to live a simple life as she had lately.

"It does seem like a lot, but most of it contains books or case files," Sherlock answered, hanging what looked to be a cow's head on the wall.

"All right then," Johanna said, knowing she would be adding to her own library as funds allowed. "Where should I start?"

"Books, if you don't mind. I have them separated and packed by subject," he replied, putting headphones on the cow, and she hid a laugh at the sight.

"Alphabetized?"

"Yes," Sherlock said, pulling a skull out of another box and setting it on the mantel. He noticed Johanna's stare and shrugged.

"It's a friend; well, I say friend," he trailed off.

"It's fine, Sherlock. Unique choice for decoration but fine," she told him, opening a box to begin sorting through the first books. Johanna quickly alphabetized the books in each subject, then began loading the shelves from bottom to top, leaving the ones she couldn't reach for her flatmate to fill.

The small woman got quite a bit done before having to stop, going to where her medical kit was stored in her room to retrieve her heating treatment. The bag had been gifted to her by a nurse before she had been released from hospital, and it was a dark blue fabric sewn together to hold the rice that had been stuffed into the bag. Johanna heated it in the microwave before limping to the chair she'd claimed and laid it over her injured shoulder. The bag curved around her shoulder while the heated rice began to soothe the bone deep ache.

"You have been released from physical therapy," Sherlock asked, looking at her for a few moments to analyze just how bad she was feeling.

"Yes, I have," Johanna replied, realizing what he was about to ask. "There are several series of exercises I have to do every day for both shoulder and ankle, but there was little more the physical therapist can do. Unfortunately, overdoing it can cause the shoulder to flare up."

"The shoulder is a necessary body part, uses almost consistently throughout the day so that will be something you will have to live with," he mused. "As it grows older, the wound might not flare as much due to being used."

"But the weather will be problematic," the doctor agreed, holding a slight note of unhappiness in her voice. "Living where I do, that's something I have to put up with for the rest of my life. I've got a few reliable homeopathic remedies to use so I don't have to rely on pharmaceuticals all the time. I have had enough of certain medications."

The consulting detective frowned at that statement and the tone used. It hinted at something else, a possible complication during his flatmate's recovery, and he did not comment on it when he spotted the look on her face. However, he would be alert for more hints regarding her past and the recovery she had gone through after her injuries in Afghanistan. The doctor was becoming more interesting by the moment, and he was rather intrigued by her. The actions she had taken last night had proven that her spirit had not been broken even though he had thought it was close to that when he had seen her at Bart's.

Sherlock continued to unpack, occasionally watching her as the heated pack began to work on her. He noticed the tense lines of her body began to ease into relaxation, realizing that it wasn't just the heat that was helping her relax. When he passed her to put some files onto the desk, he caught a floral scent emanating from the unusual bag over her shoulder.

"Jasmine," he asked, knowing she wasn't asleep even though her eyes were closed.

"Yes," she answered quietly. "The nurse who made this for me usually puts lavender into these, but I'm allergic so she put jasmine into it to help me relax. She showed me how to put new scent in once this one fades."

Johanna opened an eye, looking at her flatmate as a thought occurred to her.

"Question, Sherlock, and I know it's rather stupid but I need to know. Do you know how to use an epi-pen?"

"I do," he answered, tilting his head at her. "You have allergies severe enough to require that you carry one?"

"Unfortunately," the small woman answered. "I'll have to get the list to you so you know what to keep away from me if any of the substances are required for your experiments. It's not a long one, but the reactions are serious enough to hospitalize me. I usually keep it in my left jacket pocket in case it's needed, and I am unable to administer it myself."

"Understood," Sherlock replied, storing the data away but keeping it close enough at hand in case it was required. He would not want to risk his flatmate's health in regards to these allergies. She was proving to be unique, and the detective was pleased to have found her.

The watch on her wrist chimed at her, and Johanna frowned as she stared at it before rising to her feet with a soft groan. She limped upstairs, somehow managing to keep a hold on her cane and not dislodge the heat pack.

Sherlock frowned, a bit intrigued when his flatmate came back down with a hand clenched around something as she limped into the kitchen. He could hear her muttering under her breath but couldn't tell what she was saying as it was in a language he didn't recognize. Water ran for a few moments, and he could see her fill a glass and take what looked to be several large pills and a few smaller tablets.

Johanna cleaned the glass, reheated her pack, and then went back to her chair. Once she was situated, the detective turned to look at her. Before he could ask, she held up a hand to stop the question that she knew was coming. For some reason, the doctor did not seem to mind sharing a bit more about herself than she usually would with anyone around her.

"My immune system took a beating after I was shot; I had multiple infections and wound up catching pneumonia and a form of malaria that managed to slip through the medications the army gives its troops," she murmured. "Even though I've been released from the care of my physical therapist, I've not been medically cleared to return to any form of medical work yet."

"Not until your body rebuilds enough strength to handle exposure to common illnesses again," Sherlock theorized, taken a bit aback by the limited information she had given him. Given her appearance, he understood just how difficult her recovery had been up until this point.

"Exactly," Johanna replied, voice calm. "So it means eating small frequent meals to attain my proper weight, exercise to rebuild my strength, and plenty of vitamins and medications to support my health until I'm back to where I should be physically. Unfortunately, it also means I cannot add to the pension I receive by working at hospital or a surgery until I'm cleared to do so."

"That would be rather dull," he responded, sorting through some files.

"Excruciatingly so," she told him. "I am more the type to try to stay active mentally and physically, and these restrictions only serve to frustrate me."

"The language you were speaking a few moments ago, what was that? I could not place it," he asked, turning that uniquely colored gaze onto her.

"Dari," Johanna answered, adjusting the heat pack on her shoulder. "I picked it and Pashto up during my time in Afghanistan and often helped the translators whenever injured came into the camps or when I was out with my unit. It came in handy quite a few times."

Sherlock was quiet a moment and before he could speak, she questioned him in hopes of turning the conversation away from her. Johanna wasn't as uncomfortable speaking about herself as she usually was but would rather have the topic changed.

"Can you tell me about some of the cases you've worked in the past?"

Several hours sped by as he shared the various cases he had worked on recently and despite the dry facts that were presented to her, Johanna listened on in fascination. She was able to follow most of his words, putting the facts together to see how he had reached his conclusions.

"You were able to pull all of this together without the aid of the forensics team?"

"I have some understanding of medicine," Sherlock admitted. "Not as much as a trained surgeon like yourself but enough to work with. Scotland Yard's forensic experts are a bunch of idiots, and most refuse to work with me."

"Probably hate it that you're right where they're wrong," she answered, removing the heat pack and setting it onto the table by her chair. "And if some of them think they can solve it as quickly as you do without the benefit of all the facts, then I think delusional may be added to the complaint of stupidity."

Sherlock chuckled at that, setting up his music stand and supplies for his composing work.

"Very true," he said.

"Have you got a case on now," she asked, rather curious about his work.

"Not at the moment but there is one that has me intrigued. Have you read about the suicides that have been happening?"

Johanna nodded, frowning as she did so.

"The first one happened right before I was released from hospital," the blond admitted. "It seems rather odd that these people would take their own lives, especially since there had been no signs of suicidal ideation before. Either something caused a major downward spiral to the point where there was no way out or there's more going on behind the scenes that hasn't emerged yet."

The detective gave her a look of satisfaction, realizing she'd spotted what had made him curious about the case. She caught the look and went forward with her thoughts.

"Granted, I don't have the information about their lives but there was no sign of a traumatic event that would have an effect on multiple people to cause a rash of suicides like what happened during the stock market crash that marked the Great Depression in the US. If it was a suicide pact, then it'd mean that the three of them crossed paths somehow in order to form this pact and the plan. I thought I heard or read a report somewhere that said all three victims had no connections to each other at all."

"Exactly," he murmured, watching her think through the few details she knew as he finished setting up his music area.

"Somehow, something happened that caused all three of them to kill themselves but what was it? The method of suicide was by ingesting poison, right?"

"Yes, it was according to what I've been able to determine," he answered, sitting in his chair now that the unpacking was finished.

Johanna shook her head, frowning as she thought things through.

"A person could be forced to take the poison but the method would be difficult," she mused. "I've not seen the post-mortem reports so I don't know if there were any signs of defensive wounds to try to stop someone from pushing the pill down their throat. If someone were to use a gun to threaten them into taking the poison, it might work."

"Why do you say might," Sherlock asked, eyes glowing with interest.

"Well, some people do read up on morbid things and would know that poison is not an easy way to die," she told him. "Truth be told, if someone were try to force me to take a pill that held poison via gunpoint, I'd tell them to use the gun."

The detective rose from his seat, heading to the window.

"I think more data will be forthcoming," he told her. "There's been a fourth one, and something is different with this one because Lestrade has finally decided to bring me in."

Johanna heard the doorbell ring and moments later, a man dashed up into their flat. She could see the exhaustion and frustration on his face, realizing he had been pulling long hours on this case. Before he could speak, her flatmate broke the silence.

"What's different about the suicide this time?"

"You know how they never leave a note? Well, this one did," Lestrade told the consulting detective.

"Who's on forensics," Sherlock asked, turning to look at the newcomer. He was intrigued by what the policeman had told him but hid it for the moment.

"Anderson," the silver haired male replied, hiding a groan at the other male's reaction to the news. Those two never seemed to get along.

"Anderson won't work with me," the younger man grumbled, then his expression cleared. "However, I do have someone who has better credentials than he does that can help me."

"Sherlock, I'm sticking my neck out as it is in asking you to visit the crime scene. You can't bring just anyone with you just because you feel like it."

The curly haired detective smirked, turning to his flatmate. Johanna had been listening to the conversation, quickly realizing who it was he had been speaking of when he'd said he had someone with better credentials than this Anderson. She rose to her feet, leaning against the cane for a moment.

"Who is this then?"

Sherlock didn't answer, eyes focused on Johanna.

"You've seen a lot of violent deaths and been in a lot of action," he began. "Feel up to seeing more?"

Lestrade broke in again, repeating his question with aggravation in his voice. He was frustrated at Sherlock's refusal to answer him.

"Who is this you're inviting, Sherlock?"

Her voice answered the police detective, calm and full of authority.

"I am Dr. Johanna Watson, former captain of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers and RAMC surgeon," she told him. "I will be assisting Sherlock Holmes during this case."

Author's End Note – Another chapter done! The more I write this, the more I like this story and am anxious to keep going on it. I truly hope everyone enjoys this installment. Let me know what you think. ~ Laran


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